


A Story over Lemonade

by DayDragon



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Azran Legacy Spoilers, Gen, Post-Azran Legacy, Scars, mentions of injury, playing catch-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26089552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DayDragon/pseuds/DayDragon
Summary: Mild Azran Legacy spoilers! Layton and Randall discuss Layton's newer scars and the story behind them.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	A Story over Lemonade

“Come on, Hershel, the water’s great!” Randall splashed water at him from where he was swimming, his nest of fiery curls suddenly flattened. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to swim in those eighteen years!”

Hershel Layton did not move from his spot on the chair. “I know how to swim,” he smiled back at Randall. “However, unlike you, I prefer to drink this lovely lemonade before it gets warm.” The Monte D’Or sun was beating down on them mercilessly, making Hershel wish he hadn’t left his hat in the guest room. The warmth was quite welcome in this little respite from solving mysteries with Luke and Flora, however. The rays on his skin were a good change from being hidden beneath his long sleeves, now only in his swimming trunk. The professor watched Randall swim, reminded of many a sparring match spent together. “The ice is melting!” he called back out after a few minutes, Randall now peacefully floating on his back.

“Pour me a glass then!” Randall replied.

Shifting in his chair Hershel turned around, fulfilling his friend’s request. 

Randall’s quiet splashing suddenly stopped. Hershel could hear him take a deep breath before it resumed. Before long Randall flopped down into another beach chair, taking a glass. “Oh, Angela outdid herself,” he proclaimed after tasting it. The joy in his voice, where before it had been utterly genuine, was now quite badly faked.

They let a silence fall for a little while. The professor observed his friend peacefully, smiling at how much he had changed. Freckles covered his entire body now, almost coating his muscled form in a much darker tone, almost matching the tanned skin below. 

Deep amber eyes locked with his own dark ones. “Hershel,” Randall began, looking away, “You, uh, gained some marks since I last saw you.”

“Do elaborate,” Hershel tucked an unruly dark curl behind an ear. With no hat to keep his hair in place, it was quickly re-exploring territory once lost. 

Randall cocked his head. “The scars on your back.” he finally said, lowering his eyes. “I, I was wondering where you got them. It’s okay if you don’t want to tell, but…”

With a small sigh, the professor closed his eyes, reaching for a hat that wasn’t there to cover his eyes. He could feel them now, itching and pulling on his back, two parallel lines from his right hip to his left shoulder, hitting every high spot on their paths, leaving the valleys of his spine just barely untouched. A rock that he should’ve noticed, burning orange, a flash of pain unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Claws raking across his back from his right hip to his left shoulder, aggravated by the burning fabric. Luke’s terrified voice calling his name.

“I made a mistake a few months ago,” he finally answered, looking up once more. “The Azran, they… they don’t appreciate intruders, not in their Sanctuary.”

“Sanctuary?” Randall’s voice was filled with both concern and excitement.

“Indeed,” the smaller of the two lowered his eyes to the table, then began recounting one of his most recent adventures, and most definitely his most impressive and taxing one so far. 

“I hated to leave him behind,” Hershel continued after a small silence, having talked for at least an hour so far. “but he insisted. So on we went... The Azran are tricky, as you and I know all too well. Their Sanctuary is guarded with puzzles concerning turning lasers. Every time you walk a certain distance, they turn. You must traverse a maze without dying.”

“Right, that would be necessary, not dying,” Randall dared a small smile.

“The first few of these mazes we traversed safely, despite Descole being unable to help us any longer. The last one we encountered though… Unfortunately, I misstepped after stepping on a rock. I have to be thankful that I fell. Had I stumbled instead, they would not be superficial streaks, but two holes straight through.” 

Randall was quiet for a long while, swirling the leftover drops in his glass. “... I thought I was the reckless one,” he eventually said, looking back up. “I… I’m glad you’re still here, Hershel.” 

“I’m glad to be here, Randall,” Hershel returned, letting a small smile crawl onto his face. “Let’s go inside so I can tell you how the story ends.”

“I’d love that,” Randall stood, gathering the glasses. “Telling archeology tales… just like old times.”

“But with the tables turned… yes, indeed.” Hershel’s smile widened, standing up as well. “Just like old times.”


End file.
